


Intersections of Mind and Gender

by prairiecrow



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Female Tony Stark, Genderbending, Human Jarvis (Iron Man movies), M/M, Magically Made Human, POV Tony Stark, Sexual Tension, Tony Angst, magical sex change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:24:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3794842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark has been magically turned into a woman, and he's far from happy about that. But JARVIS has also been turned into a human male, and that may be the far more dangerous part of the equation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intersections of Mind and Gender

Tony tossed back the dregs of the latest cup of coffee and peered intently at the 3D holographic projection of Iron Man's armour floating in the middle of Lab A, pacing around it, dragging tendrils of light back and forth with nimble fingers, mind clocking along at speeds no other human being alive could match.  
  
That much, at least, hadn't changed.  
  
That much was left, when so much had been lost…  
  
No. No thinking along those lines was allowed. Tony Stark remained fundamentally Tony Stark, when you got right down to it. He was still _he_ , was still _him_ , and _himself_ , and what belonged to him was still _his_ — the wrapping didn't matter, when the substance inside retained its essential characteristics. Right? Right.  
  
He still liked women, for example. He liked women a _lot_. He'd even pulled up some porn just to check his reactions, and yeah, the burn was still there, even if the quality of the arousal was different, more like melting and more whole-body than the focussed throbbing in a swelling cock. But at the moment, he was pretty sure most women wouldn't much care for him in the sexual sense — and those that did… if he had sex with them in his current "condition", would that qualify him as a lesbian? He'd lost his sartorial facial hair and gained both a set of breasts (B cup) and a pussy, which made him female, right?  
  
No — wrong, very _very_ wrong. Oh, if they ever caught the bitch responsible for this, that sniggering crazy magic user who hadn't even bothered to drop her name before hitting Iron Man with the Incredible Sex-Changing Ray, Tony was going to rip her so many new orifices they'd be calling her Sieve Girl by the time he was finished with her. But first he'd grab her by the throat and shake her so hard that her neck would fracture, and he wouldn't let go until she'd put things back to the way they were supposed to be.  
  
He loved his cock and balls, thank you very much. His cock and balls had been exceedingly good to him over the years. Wherever the hell they were at the moment, he hoped they were getting A-class spa quality treatment…  
  
… but honestly, they could be in a landfill somewhere for all he knew. Or just… disintegrated, returned to the universal pool of ever-changing carbon forms from which they'd come. Maybe they were beyond anyone's ability to retrieve…  
  
… in which case Tony was never getting fucked again in any of the ways that mattered. Pepper had certainly freaked right the hell out when the Avengers had dragged him back to the Tower, and she was currently in California on a scheduled-in-advance business trip which had frankly been perfectly timed from her point of view. And as long as he was being honest, Tony had to admit that he was a little hurt — no, make that _a hell of a lot hurt_ — by her instant revulsion to his new state of affairs. Not that he could rationally blame her: if she'd suddenly been turned into a man, Tony would have been a train wreck of conflicted emotions himself… but still, almost forty-eight hours and not so much as a phone call or an email? What the ever-loving _fuck?_  
  
Even Steve, who was normally the social glue that held the Avengers team together, had been keeping his distance ever since "it" had happened. At least Bruce's absence was explicable, because Tony could give him credit for actually perceiving that Tony was infuriated and frustrated and prickly and hell yeah, wanted to be left the fuck alone as much as possible.  
  
_Huh. Maybe I'm PMSing._ The thought made his eyes prickle and his vision blur, and oh fuck, this body's lower centre of gravity was a pain in his ass but the potent surges of unexpected emotion _sucked_ , and he paused in reworking the Iron Man armour to suit his new curvier contours (because it was something to do, damn it, something to keep him occupied, not because it would ever actually be necessary) and sucked in a shaky breath, his eyelids squeezing closed and dread crushing in close around his damaged heart.  
  
_No, not a panic attack, fuck no, I can't, I can't, I —_  
  
"… Sir?"  
  
The quality of that quiet level voice penetrated everything: not the version of JARVIS that was loaded into the lab's hardware, but the version of JARVIS that had been loaded into the suit. The version of JARVIS who had been hit by the same magical blast that had turned his maker inside-out — but since JARVIS had no sex to change…  
  
Tony heard a chair being pushed back at the computer station fifteen feet behind him, followed by the measured click of brand-new dress shoes crossing the lab floor, and out of the rising chaos of pain one thought clearly surfaced: _Somebody still knows who I am — **what** I am! Somebody's still got it right!_  
  
A hand settled on his hunched right shoulder, large and firm and gentle. "Sir, please… breathe."  
  
Tony choked back a snort of laughter… but after a moment's struggle he marshaled his resources and expanded his chest in a deep inhalation, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart against the reactor housing.  
  
"Count to seven," JARVIS advised, his hand on Tony's shoulder the only steady thing in a universe spinning out of control, "then exhale, for a count of five."  
  
_You're only human now, why the hell should I listen to you?_ But he did, and when JARVIS said "Now repeat," he obeyed. "Again… Again. And again."  
  
Tony didn't realize that he'd fumbled his left hand up across his swollen chest until his fingers were wrapped around JARVIS's, gripping tight. "Fuck… oh, _fuck_ …"  
  
"I'm here, Sir," JARVIS said quietly in his left ear, and Tony was wildly grateful that JARVIS wasn't trying to tell him that everything would be all right, or any other bullshit along those lines. JARVIS, at least, was always totally honest with him. When JARVIS shifted his grasp to interlace their fingers Tony clutched back desperately. "I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"We'll find her." His voice sounded thin and high-pitched in his own ears, the timbre false, sending chills crawling up his spine. "We'll find her, J — and we'll make her pay."  
  
"I'd settle for both of us being returned to our default states, thank you," JARVIS replied tartly, and that made Tony laugh again, a harsh bark, but more genuine than hysterical this time. The bitter amusement cut through his gathering panic like a clean cold wind banishing fog — but something else flooded in with it, something triggered by the physical presence behind him, the tall broad presence now undeniably male, tall enough that if Tony turned round and stepped up against it her head would tuck just neatly under its chin and she could wrap both arms around the warmth of it, the strength of it, and breathe in its clean masculine scent and close her eyes again, but lazily this time, with contentment instead of fear…  
  
_Her_ body knew these things with the purity of inborn instinct, but _his_ mind reeled back from the unnatural compulsion that was not, after all, his own. He seized control of his muscles again, appalled to realize that he'd already started leaning back, leaning in — and twitched, and coughed, and let go of JARVIS's hand as if it were suddenly red-hot.  
  
"Yeah, well…" He scratched under his chin (classic displacement behaviour) and forced a note of cheer into his voice, pretty sure it rang false. "Either way, she'll never know what hit her, right?"  
  
"No doubt," JARVIS concurred. His hand lingered, and for one crazy half-second Tony wondered if he felt the magnetic pull too, oh God _no_ — but then he removed it, and Tony heard him take a half-step away. "Are you —?"  
  
"Never better," Tony said in his new fake-hearty female voice. "Okay, let's get back to work! Remember, if you spot any —"  
  
"— track remnants in the scans, I'll let you know immediately," JARVIS concluded. As if, for a moment, he was as eager to wrap up this interaction as Tony was. "Of course, Sir."  
  
And in that moment, Tony experienced a visual mental flash that was almost blinding. The first time he'd seen JARVIS's new human face — pale, flat Nordic contours, icy blue eyes, wheat-blond hair — he had also experienced an instinct of immediate recognition: _If I'd designed something for him, something physical and humanoid, it would have looked godawful like this._ Now he could clearly imagine how JARVIS was gazing at him: unblinking, head tilted slightly to one side, a tiny frowning crease between his eyebrows as he considered everything he was seeing. Then Tony heard him turn away, and the moment was past and there was distance between them  
  
_safe distance_  
  
getting wider with every passing second.  
  
Tony stared at the hologram in front of him without seeing it, keenly aware of his deepened breathing, and particularly of the rise and fall of his breasts under his favourite now-too-big-for-his-shoulders Black Sabbath t-shirt, his traitorous nipples hardened and pert and subtly tingling.  
  
So much lost… and something gained that was so potentially deadly, so unremittingly dangerous, so insanely seductive that it could explode his world from the inside if he let it have a microsecond's free rein.

The slim saddle between his legs ached with every beat of his heart, swelling moist and hot.  
  
Grudgingly, he had to admit the terrible possibility that maybe Sieve Girl had known exactly what she was doing, after all.  
  
[TO BE CONTINUED]


End file.
